But She Took Him
by Aria Gray
Summary: At 34 Harry finally confronts the Dursleys. Ignorant of Harry's past with both the Dursleys and the war, his children witness the unfortunate incident. How will Harry ever explain this? HG
1. A Dursley Disaster

The quaint stone cottage was tucked in a small valley between two hills and was the only house that could be seen for miles. It seemed to be detached from the commotion of the rest of the world: a warm little reprieve; a place to call home.

Harry sighed as he approached the door. There were no lights burning through the windows—his family had gone to bed.

Work had become extremely hectic lately as a series of discoveries involving the locations of former Death Eaters seemed to all come at once. As head of the Auror Department, Harry found himself staying late nearly every night, catching up on paper work, sometimes staying well into the morning.

It wasn't that he minded his job—he liked it very much actually, but he didn't like how little he saw his family lately. Ginny understood, he knew, but he doubted that his children did. And how long would Ginny be willing to put up with her seldom home husband?

He let himself in and tiptoed to the kitchen. He was hoping that he might find some leftovers from the family's dinner that he could eat before going to bed. Instead he found his wife, standing over the stove, preparing him dinner.

"Hello, darling," she said, moving over to him and standing on tip toe to plant a kiss on his nose.

"Ginny, what are you doing up? It's after one-o-clock."

"Oh, I was taking care of some things around the house and I saw your hand switch to traveling and figured you could use a hot meal."

He didn't buy it for a minute. He could tell by the way she wouldn't meet his eyes that she had been waiting up for him. Ginny could lie unabashedly to anyone, including her own mother, but for some reason she had never been able to lie to him.

"I love you, Ginny," he said, wrapping her in his arms, breathing in the familiar flowery scent of her hair.

"I love you too, Mr. Potter," she said, playfully swatting him on the cheek before turning back to the stove.

"I went to the Muggle post office today. You got a letter from your cousin."

Harry tiredly sat down at the scrubbed wooden table and pulled the envelope toward him.

"That's odd: I usually only hear from him at Christmas time."

Ginny just shrugged as Harry undid the seal on the letter. He quickly skimmed it and began to laugh.

"Oh, Vernon's going to love this," he said gleefully.

"No," Ginny said, a broad smile stretching across her face. Somehow she had already guessed the letter's contents. "This is too perfect. Read it! Read it!"

Harry cleared his throat and began to read Dudley's childlike handwriting aloud.

_Dear Harry,_

_How are you and your family? Laura and I thank you for the bottle of wine that you and Ginny sent last Christmas. I'm sorry we didn't write to thank you sooner._

_I'm writing now because there have been some…well…strange things happening around our house lately. You see, our daughter was climbing a tree last week and she fell. She was really high up and she should have been seriously hurt, but she stopped falling a few inches from the ground as though she had been caught by an invisible net, and then she just sort of stepped down the rest of the way._

_It's not the first time something like this has happened, though it's never been quite so obvious. I didn't ask you about it sooner because I wasn't sure, but Laura and I are now convinced that our daughter's a witch. Laura is thrilled. I told her all about witches and wizards, you know, when we named our daughter. I didn't know if I was allowed to tell her at first, but then Dad said something in front of her and I couldn't really get out of it._

_We were wondering if you and your family would like to come for lunch this weekend and maybe help us understand some things about your world. Does everyone get to go to that school or is it just certain kids? If it's everyone, I expect we'll be getting a Hogwarts letter soon and I'd like to know a little more about the life Hermione's going to lead. It's not dangerous anymore, right? She's not going to have to deal with some evil wizard?_

_Please let us know if you'll be able to come. It would be good to see you anyway—it's been too long._

_Dudley_

Ginny and Harry were laughing so hard by the time he finished that both of their eyes were tearing up.

"Vernon's going to love this," he said again.

"I know," Ginny said, wiping a tear from her cheek. "Remember how badly he freaked out when Dudley named his daughter after a witch? Imagine what he'll do now!"

Harry smiled, remembering the letter he had received from his cousin shortly after his baby Hermione had been born. Dudley had explained that the birth had been amazing, and that looking at his little girl in his wife's arms had felt so incredible that it seemed impossible for someone so perfect as his new daughter to exist. It seemed magical, he had written. So accordingly, he decided to give her a magical name. The only problem was the only witches he had ever heard mentioned were Lily (which just seemed inappropriate), Hestia, Ginny, and Hermione. He suggested Hestia and Hermione to Laura and she fell in love with the latter name. So the child of Harry's once hated cousin had been named after one of his own best friends.

"We're going, right?" Ginny asked, bouncing with so much enthusiasm she reminded Harry of a little girl.

"Yeah," he answered, scribbling off a reply. "It must be hard to not know anything really about the life she's going to lead and besides, he's right—it has been too long. I don't think we've seen them since you were pregnant with Lily." Since Lily was now seven, that had been a long time indeed.

The following Sunday, Harry found himself ushering his family into their car to very loud protests.

"But why do we have to go?" ten year old James whined. "I don't even know these people."

"Yes you do," Ginny said, pushing him into the car. "Remember? The Dursleys came to visit when you were three."

"I was three, mum. Of course I don't remember."

"Well, Hermione's about to turn eleven and if Dudley's right about her, she'll likely be going off to Hogwarts with you. It will be good to meet one of your classmates who _isn't_ a Weasley."

The Weasley brothers had definitely taken after their parents as far as children went. Between the five of them, they had eighteen children, Charlie being responsible for six of them. The family had once sat down and figured out how many Weasleys would be at Hogwarts at one time and the number had been terrifying: Fourteen, plus the three Potters. Harry didn't envy the Hogwarts staff.

James huffed as Harry backed the car out of the driveway but stopped arguing. He knew it was pointless to argue with his mother. As always, Al just remained quiet during the drive while Lily chattered on about unrelated things.

Every now and then Harry snatched a glance at his children through the rear view mirror and couldn't help but smile. James had the brilliant red hair of a Weasley, as well as a smattering of freckles spattered across his nose and cheeks, but he was definitely a Potter. His face was nearly identical to that of Harry's and his father's, and his hair, though red, never seemed to lie flat. His eyes were sparkling and inquisitive, and Harry knew already that James took after his namesake as far as mischief was concerned.

Al on the other hand looked almost exactly like Harry, minus the scar. Harry pitied him a bit. Like his other children, Al would grow up in the shadow of his famous father, but it would be far worse for him if he kept on looking so much like his dad. He even had the same glasses (which Ginny insisted on when they found out Al needed glasses, despite Harry's protests).

Lily was a person all her own. She had red hair like the Weasleys, but it was of a darker, more auburn hue. Her eyes were soft and brown, like Ginny's and James', but her face took features from both her mother and father. He reminded Harry a bit of what Ginny had been like as a child, but was far more rambunctious. He couldn't picture his Lily ever squealing and running out of a room because the boy she fancied was there. Then again, he couldn't picture Lily fancying a boy at all without imagining himself hanging the kid upside down and shaking him until he ran away crying.

Lily had her mother's spark and vivacity, but she was also at times a quiet, thoughtful child.

"I think we're lost, Harry," Ginny said about an hour into the drive.

"We're not lost, dear" Harry insisted.

"I don't understand why you didn't just have their house hooked up to the Floo. You need to start taking advantage of your connections at the Ministry.

"I told you it would be too much of a hassle since they don't know that Hermione's a witch yet. They're pure Muggle to the Ministry, and since they're not immediately related to anyone magical, they're not technically supposed to even know about magic."

Ginny rolled her eyes affectionately. "You could have just gone to Kingsley. He would have put everything through. We would have been there an hour ago. Instead, we're driving around lost--"

"We're not lost, dear," Harry repeated stubbornly, though in truth he didn't even know what town he was in.

"Here," Ginny said, pulling a piece of parchment out of the glove compartment. She pointed her wand at it and said "Dudley and Laura Dursley's house."

"Turn right in one quarter kilometer," the map said aloud. "The house will be the third on the right. It is two stories, blue with white shutters, has a yellow Saab in the driveway, and Laura and Hermione Dursley are currently outside playing with their three year old golden retriever, Diggle."

"See, I told you we weren't lost," Harry said smugly, relieved that he wouldn't be found out.

A few minutes later, the family pulled into the driveway to be greeted by a happily barking dog, and two smiling women.

"Harry," Laura said, hugging him as if they were old friends. In fact, they had only met a handful of times. She went on to hug the rest of the Potters, wiping a spot from James' nose, which seemed to thoroughly annoy him.

Harry liked Laura very much. She was blonde with a round, slightly pudgy face and a friendly smile. There was something about her that made everyone she spoke to feel loved.

Harry turned to the little girl who was standing shyly behind her mother.

"Hello, Hermione," he said, crouching down so they'd be at eye level. "I heard you've been having some interesting things happening to you lately.

Hermione nodded and seemed to be struggling with herself, getting up the courage to speak.

"Are you really magic?" she asked, looking afraid and hopeful at the same time. Harry smiled.

"I am," he answered. "We all are." He gestured at his family. "And from what I've heard, you are too."

"Cool," she said, now looking with awe at Harry's children.

"Come on in," Laura said, leading the way toward the house. "Dudley's inside."

They entered into a small living room and were greeted by the smiling face of Dudley Dursley. He was still quite heavy, but his features had softened and he had grown into a more jovial disposition.

"Harry," he said happily, shaking his hand. He too hugged Ginny and the children, who all looked extremely awkward. Dudley didn't seem to notice.

"Come on," he said, leading them into a bright and cheerful kitchen. "Lunch will be ready soon."

The adults all took seats around the table while Hermione began asking Harry's children all sorts of questions. They had soon been ushered upstairs by Laura to play together and get to know one another.

"They're beautiful children," Laura said, rejoining them at the table. "Al looks just like you, Harry."

"I can't believe how old Hermione's gotten," Ginny added. "I was half expecting to find her still three years old."

They spent a few minutes catching up on seven years of little more than Christmas cards, and Harry actually found himself enjoying the company of his cousin.

There was a knock at the door and Laura rose to answer it while Harry, Ginny and Dudley remained seated at the kitchen table. Harry was just about to ask Dudley if he knew what happened to Mrs. Figg when he heard something that almost made his heart stop.

"Vernon, Petunuia! What a lovely surprise!" Laura's voice drifted in through the kitchen. "It looks like we're having a bit of an impromptu reunion today, you know. You're nephew stopped in for lunch."

Their reaction was drowned out by the sudden rushing of blood to Harry's ears. His face grew warm and he could feel his hands shaking. He hadn't seen his aunt and uncle in over fifteen years, and was not prepared for, nor did we want a reunion now.

He suddenly felt like a small boy again, afraid of what his aunt and uncle might do to him if they arrived home before he finished his chores. He felt as though he had just performed accidental magic, and though he didn't know what it was, he knew the punishment he'd get for it. He stood up suddenly.

"Come on, Ginny," he said. "We're leaving. Sorry Dudley. We'll have to do this again some other time."

Ginny remained seated despite Harry's imploring look.

"Please don't leave on their account, Harry," Dudley hurriedly whispered. "Please stay. I'll get rid of them if I can."

"Harry, you don't have to be afraid of them any more," Ginny whispered, taking his hand.

Harry suddenly became very aware that he was not an eleven year old boy incapable of standing up for himself or protecting himself. He had realized that as a teenager as well, but at that time he had still been indebted to them in a way. He still had to live in their house.

But now he was thirty four years old. He was an experienced Auror, had fought in a war and was now the youngest head of the Auror Department in history. Not only that, but he was a father himself. He could handle the Dursleys.

He sat back down and tried to regain control of himself as he heard Petunia's voice drift into the kitchen. He kept Ginny's hand clasped in his under the table.

"Vernon, we drove all this way. The least we can do is say hello. You don't have to speak to him. We'll just say hello to Hermione and Duddy and then we'll go."

Harry could hear Vernon grumbling as footsteps drew nearer to the kitchen. As Petunia came through the door, followed by a very purple faced Vernon, the first thought that went through Harry's mind was that they were _old_. Petunia had gone almost completely gray, and Vernon looked every bit the part of a crotchety old man.

"Hello Harry," Petunia said weakly. Harry mumbled back and half raised his hand in an awkward salute. Vernon didn't speak. He wouldn't meet Harry's eyes.

Ginny coughed pointedly beside him.

"Oh," Harry said. "This is my wife Ginny."

"It's nice to meet you," Petunia said. Vernon just grumbled again but was looking at Ginny. Though he wouldn't meet Harry's eyes, he didn't seem to have a problem looking at Ginny. Harry suddenly felt very protective of his wife.

"Mione, come on down," Laura shouted from the next room, her voice betraying how blissfully unaware she was of the situation unfolding or the circumstances surrounding it. Harry envied her. "Grandma and Grandpa Dursley are here."

"H-h-how long have you been married?" Petunia stammered awkwardly.

"Thirteen years," Ginny answered bluntly as the sound of four children's footsteps came pounding down the stairs.

Petunia looked terrified as James entered the room, followed by Al and Lily. Both she and Vernon stared at the three of them, but especially at Albus. Harry stood up, feeling more protective now than he had of Ginny. He didn't even want his children in the presence of these awful people. He walked over to them and knelt down.

"Why don't you three go back on upstairs." They looked at him curiously but didn't move.

"He…He looks just like you did when you were a little boy," Petunia stuttered. Harry gave her what he hoped was an evil look. He didn't want her speaking to his children.

"Well we wouldn't know would we?" Ginny said from her seat at the table, suddenly fierce. "It's not like we have any pictures from the first eleven years of his life." Everyone in the room except for Harry and Dudley looked shocked at Ginny's pronouncement: Vernon and Petunia that she had said it, and everyone else for the statement's implications.

"What's he doing here anyway?" Vernon asked his son, apparently finding his voice. His vein was throbbing familiarly and his face was growing even purpler. "I didn't know you still talked to this freak."

Petunia jumped, Ginny made a sound like an angry cat and the children looked back and forth between Harry and Vernon, wide eyed with confusion and anticipation.

"Don't dad," Dudley said nervously.

"Why's he here?" Vernon asked again.

Laura moved over toward her husband and placed her hand on his shoulder. It seemed to give him courage. He looked at Harry, as though for permission, and Harry nodded.

"Because I asked them to come and explain some things to me. You see…Hermione's a witch." Dudley's face went from apprehensive to challenging, as though daring his father to say something cruel about his only daughter.

"Go on upstairs, now," Harry whispered firmly. The look on his face didn't allow his children to disobey. They immediately left the kitchen.

"No," Vernon whispered, and then louder, "No! Our granddaughter's a freak! This is your fault boy." He lunged toward Harry.

As one Harry, Ginny, and Dudley rose. Before Dudley or Harry could speak, however, Ginny was bearing down on Vernon with her wand raised threateningly. It was worth it, all of it, to see his four hundred pound uncle cowering before his five foot wife.

"You listen to me, Vernon Dursley," she began in a hiss, but her voice rose as she spoke until she was shouting. Vernon whimpered. "You are done threatening my husband. He could kill you or worse in a heartbeat, but he won't because he's too good of a man and that's _in spite_ of what you did to him, not because of it. What you did to him when he was a child is unforgivable—neglecting him, starving him, locking him in his bedroom cupboard, and I don't even know how badly you hurt him physically because he's _still _too ashamed to talk about it. Why did you even take him, if you hated him so much? Why? My family and I had a hard time convincing him that he was worthy of love from anyone because of what you did to him. You were all he had left after his parents died and you abused him, you belittled him, you made him feel as though he wasn't human. But still, he's a better man than you'll ever be. He has so much love in him he _died_ to save us. He actually walked knowingly to his own death and came back, but you think he's worthless—you think he's a freak. But _you're _the worthless one Vernon, you're the freak. I swear on the lives of my children if you ever so much as say an unfriendly word to Hermione I will make sure I do to you what Harry should have done years ago."

Harry moved toward his wife, who still had her wand pointing directly into Vernon's face. He didn't think she even realized there had been angry sparks flying out of it as she spoke. He took her elbow gently.

"Come on, Ginny," he said quietly, leading her away from his uncle. "Sorry Dudley. We'll have to do this at my house next time."

They left the kitchen and Harry found his children standing by the door, looking shocked at what they'd heard. Lily looked as though she might cry. Harry sighed.

"Come on, guys," he said sadly. "We're leaving."

They filed out of the house obediently.

They were halfway across the lawn when Harry heard the door of the house slam and turned to see Petunia running out after them. He ushered his family toward the car and walked back to meet her.

She looked at him for a moment, ringing her hands before she spoke.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she said, "for everything."

Harry just looked at her blankly.

"I know it's not enough…"

"You're damn right it's not enough," he said, keeping his voice low for the sake of his children. He began walking toward the car again but turned back. There was something he wanted to ask.

"You took me," he said. "You hated me and who I came from, but you took me. I know all about you and my mum and Snape, so I know that much at least but…" he hesitated. "I know how you treated me as a child, as if I didn't exist, but what about when I was a baby? You would have had to watch me, and feed me, and change me. What about when I cried? I know Vernon wouldn't have put up with me crying, even then. You must have at least sort of taken care of me or I would have died. You must have at least sort of been a mother to me then."

"You…you didn't cry," she said after a moment. It wasn't the answer Harry had been expecting. "Never. Not once. I fed you and I changed you, but I never had to comfort you because you never cried. Vernon said it was unnatural. I didn't know what to think…"

"So that's why you hated me?" Harry asked, disbelieving comprehension dawning over him. "Because I didn't need you?"

"No, that's not it really." She seemed to be struggling for the right words, but Harry didn't let her finish.

He turned away, disgusted. He saw his daughter getting back out of the car and walking toward him.

"Get back in the car, Lily," he spat. She squeaked and ran back toward the car.

"Lily," Petunia said quietly. "It's a beautiful name. Your little girl will have a lot to do to live up to her namesake."

Harry turned back again to find tears flowing down his aunt's face. He walked back toward her. He had to remind himself that it was nothing more than jealousy that drove his aunt to be the kind of person she had become.

"Hermione will be treated no differently than she was before today," he said, rather than asked.

"No, Harry, of course not." Her voice was strong, and Harry believed her.

He offered her a very small smile before turning back to his family; the family he should have had all his life. And he realized as they looked at him worriedly from the car that it had been worth it. The first eleven years, and everything that followed had been worth it, just to see his family waiting for him, with undeniable expressions of love and concern etched on each of their faces.

* * *

**AN: **This is a three part story of which this is the first. Next up, Harry's kids react to what they overheard. Please let me know what you think! 


	2. The Stupidest, Most Bravest Man

Harry and his family spent the drive home from Dudley's in near silence. Ginny was still fuming and though he could tell his children were dying to ask what everything Ginny said to Vernon meant, they didn't dare while their mother was this upset.

As they pulled into the driveway of their quaint little cottage, Harry announced that he had some things to catch up on at work. Ginny gave him a look that was half scathing and half concerned. He remarked to himself how beautiful she looked, with the golden sunset lighting her face, and with that familiar expression of love and exasperation. Soft wrinkles had begun to form around her eyes, and Harry knew that Ginny spent time agonizing over them in the mirror, but he thought they only added beauty to her face.

Lily was tugging at his hand and he knelt down in front of her, hoping she wasn't about to ask him the questions he knew she wanted to.

"Daddy, I love you," she said, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. "Try not to stay at work too late."

Harry smiled and hugged her tightly before kissing her lightly on the forehead. James and Albus were looking apprehensively at him from the doorway of the house. For a moment, he considered staying home with them, but just waved and turned on the spot, Disapparating to the Ministry.

He really didn't have all that much to do at work. Rather than catching up, he found himself getting ahead on paperwork. Around nine-o-clock he decided to take a walk around the halls of the Ministry to stretch his legs. The Ministry was always so quiet at this hour, and he liked the relief it offered from its usually frantic pace. His lone footsteps echoing through the magnificent halls calmed him, and helped him think.

He was surprised to see Hermione's office door was open and emitting a soft light. He stood for a moment in the open doorway, watching one of his oldest friends as she pored over a stack of parchment on her desk. She was bent so low over it she appeared to him as nothing more than a pile of bushy hair.

"Got any basilisk fangs?" he asked and her head snapped up. It had become something of a morbid joke between them after the war. They at first had trouble talking about everything that had happened, and were reluctant even to tell the Weasley family about it, but one night, about a month after the last battle, Ron, Harry and Hermione were assigned the task by Mrs. Weasley of cleaning out the broom shed at the Burrow. It was stupid really: They found an old letter that Ron had apparently written to Hermione years ago, confessing his feelings in a childlike scrawl, hidden under a pile of boards. Harry read it aloud, laughing, while Hermione tried without success to take it seriously.

"We ought to frame this," Harry had said as he finished.

"More like destroy it," Ron grumbled. "Anyone got a Basilisk fang?"

They stood there for a moment, Ron just as shocked as the other two that he had said it. They stood staring at each other, silent. And then, all at once, they began to laugh. They laughed harder than any of them had in years; they laughed until they lost all track of time, falling into each other, collapsing as one into a mess on the floor, tears streaming from their eyes.

And then, it was okay. All of it. It was over for them now, finally. It was over. From that day on, they had no trouble talking about it with each other. An understanding had passed between them.

Hermione smiled now and beckoned for him to enter.

"What are you doing here so late? I thought you were going to visit little me?" Hermione still couldn't get over the fact that Harry's infamous cousin had named his daughter after her. She would be eternally amused by the fact.

"Yeah, I did," he said simply.

Hermione peered at him searchingly for a moment. He liked having lifelong friends, he really did, but he hated the fact that she and Ron could read him so easily.

"What happened? Did you fight?" She clapped her hand over her mouth suddenly. "No. Your aunt and uncle?"

Harry nodded, not really surprised at how easily she has just deduced the exact reason for his coming into work so late with such a melancholy mood.

"It was pretty bad. Dudley told them about Hermione being a witch and then Ginny went psycho on Vernon. That part was pretty fun, actually, but the kids heard the whole thing. I'm not looking forward to the questions they're going to ask. Ginny even told him about how I died and came back to life."

Hermione looked appalled. "But you haven't even told them about your part in the war!"

"I know," Harry said. "And I was hoping I wouldn't have to yet."

Over the years, Harry had tried to keep his family away from the limelight and had partially succeeded. There were enough wards around the house to keep reporters and the simply curious away, and Harry rarely visited public wizarding places with his children. It wasn't as if they never left the house together—they spent a lot of time at the Burrow, and at Ron and Hermione's, and often ventured into Muggle cities, but they usually avoided Diagon Alley and the like. If the children needed to go, a Weasley usually took them.

He couldn't shield them completely of course. They had seen various newspaper articles and magazines, and had heard various mentions of the war. They had even, at times, heard strangers in the street talking about Harry Potter, but he always evaded questions about it. It looked like now he would be forced to come clean.

"You know," Hermione said thoughtfully, "James will being going off to Hogwarts in September. It's not like you can send him there without telling him. Don't you remember how you felt going there when everyone else knew more about you than you did? Maybe it's not such a bad thing that you've sort of been thrust into this."

Harry shrugged. "I guess, but I really wasn't ready to tell Al and Lily."

"Oh, don't tell Lily," Hermione said, suddenly teary. "Please don't tell her yet." Harry completely understood. He didn't want anything to blight that perfectly pure existence either.

"I won't tell her everything," he comforted Hermione. "But if she asks, I'm not going to lie."

Hermione looked slightly appeased.

"Go home, Harry," she said rather sternly, turning back to her parchment. She had become quite a mother, he realized, and Harry knew enough to obey.

At home, Harry found Ginny working on a Quidditch article for the Daily Prophet. She looked up at him as he entered the house with a strange expression. "How are you doing?" she asked, concerned.

"I'm fine," he answered. "It's been almost twenty years, Ginny. They don't bother me any more."

"Good," she said, though she didn't look completely convinced. "They're asking questions," she added.

Harry sighed. "Yeah, I figured they would. You think it's time to tell James? He is going to Hogwarts in September, you know. We can't shield him from it forever."

"You've been talking to Hermione," she said. Why was he so easy to read? He had to get some new people in his life who didn't know him so well.

"I heard them talking to each other, comparing notes. Did you know that you were Minister for Magic at sixteen? And that you led an army of raging hippogriffs against a Muggle army?"

Harry let out a sound that wasn't quite a laugh.

"Come on," Ginny said, standing up. "I'm sure he's still awake."

Harry and Ginny climbed the stairs quietly to find James completely awake, sitting up in his bedroom, reading _Quidditch through the Ages_ by moonlight.

Harry knocked softly on the doorframe and walked in. Ginny stayed leaning in the doorway.

"Hey James," Harry said, sitting on the edge of his bed. "Can't sleep?"

James shook his head. "Dad, I know you don't like to talk about the war, but sometimes I feel like everybody in the world knows more about my Dad than I do. Teddy told me you were a hero, and I don't even know why. You don't have to tell me everything, but mum said you actually died! Is that true?"

There was heartbreaking concern on James' features and it made him look much older to Harry than ten. Maybe keeping this from him for so long hadn't been such a good idea after all.

"Sort of," Harry answered, struggling for the words to explain to this little boy the horrors of war. Then he remembered that he himself had only been a few months older than James when he learned the truth of his parents' murders and the history of Voldemort. He had been less than a year older than him when he fought Voldemort for the first, well second time. Despite all this, he suddenly understood fully, and completely, why Dumbledore had been so reluctant to tell him about the prophecy.

Harry took a deep breath and began.

"No way," Al said proudly, with awe, at the tales of Harry's first few years of Hogwarts. He supposed the way Harry told it made it seem like an adventure, because that's how he viewed those years now compared with what was to come.

As he told his son of Cedric's death, of Voldemort's rebirth from his own blood, and of his escape from the Death Eaters that night, he watched horror dawn on the little boy's face. It wasn't an adventure anymore.

"Are you sure you want to hear this?" he asked. James looked unsure but urged him to continue.

His expression grew angry as Harry told him about Umbridge and his persecution by the Ministry and the other students at Hogwarts. He's eyes grew red and a little wet as Harry finally explained the origins of James' middle name, Sirius. They grew fearful as he told him about the prophecy, and determined as he spoke of his own determination to finish it or die trying. He watched the conflicting emotions he himself had once felt as they now passed across his son's face as the tale went on, through the discovery of the Horcruxes, and through Dumbledore's death.

"And that's why Albus has such a stupid name?" he asked.

Harry grinned. "It's a name to be proud of, but just wait 'til you hear where his middle name came from."

It was strange to be reliving all of this so many years later, sitting in his son's cheerful Quidditch paraphernalia adorned bedroom. He had never told the story from start to finish like this, and it was almost liberating, though it just didn't feel right. Most of him just wished he could label it all as "The Past" and file it away somewhere without ever having to deal with it again. That wasn't the way life worked though, he learned long ago.

Ginny stayed leaning in the doorway while Harry spoke of the year he spent with Ron and Hermione, searching for Horcruxes, and as he kept James riveted with the story of breaking into the Ministry, and into Gringotts.

"You didn't really escape on a dragon, did you? Uncle Charlie told me that once and I didn't believe him."

Harry nodded and laughed at the amazed look on his son's face. "Wicked."

"Things get pretty bad now, though," he warned.

"You mean it gets worse?" James looked disbelieving, and a little scared.

Harry didn't want to continue, but he had come this far. He told all about finding the Diadem, about the final battle, about how Uncle Fred had died, and Teddy's Parents. He told about how brave his extended family was, and how valiantly they fought. Ginny left the doorway when his story reached the edge of the forest.

He had told her this part exactly four days after the battle, and she had wept like he never saw her weep before or since. Finally, she stood up, threatened him with her wand, and said: "Harry James Potter, if you ever do anything so stupidly brave and foolishly selfless again, I swear I'll be the one to kill you myself." Harry had realized in that moment, with complete certainty, that he was going to spend the rest of his life with her. He knew now that she had no interest in hearing that part of the story again even after all these years.

Tears were falling from James' eyes unashamedly now. Harry tried to keep the story as simple as possible, but he played up the part where he won, not because he was proud, but because he was trying to desperately overshadow the bad parts in James' mind.

When he finished, when he finally finished the seven year tale, James just looked at him for a full minute. Then, he crawled across his bed to where his father was sitting, and in a way that would mortify any ten year old boy, he crawled into his father's lap and wrapped his arms around him. Harry could feel his son shaking with tears and he did what he could to comfort him, hugging him tightly to his chest.

Finally, James pulled away from his father enough to look into his face. "Dad, you are by far the stupidest, most bravest, most amazing Dad anyone has ever had."

"Your mother said something very similar in her wedding vows you know," Harry answered grinning.

James laughed a very wet laugh.

"I'm glad you won, Dad," James said, more quietly, and Harry held him until he fell asleep in his arms.

Shutting the door softly behind him, Harry exited his eldest son's room to find Ginny leaning against the wall, crying soft tears.

Without a word, he pulled her into his chest and comforted her in much the same way he had comforted James.

"I didn't think that would be so hard," she whispered.

"Neither did I."

They stood like that for a long while before Ginny whispered something about making tea. Harry decided to check on Al before joining her. He must be sleeping by now, he thought, but he just felt like he needed to see him sleeping, peacefully unaware of the story he would no doubt hear in the morning.

"Dad?" the boy whispered, as Harry opened the door. He too was sitting awake in bed, but he had no book in his hand. He was just staring into the darkness, his brilliant green eyes alit with moonlight.

"You're still awake?" Harry asked, coming into his room fully.

"Yeah. Can I ask you something?"

Harry sighed. There was no way he was going to tell the story again tonight.

"What is it, Al?"

"What mum said earlier, was it true?"

"Yeah, it was."

To Harry's surprise, light tears started streaming down his cheeks. How could he not tell him now?

"Al, what is it?"

"How could those people treat you like that? They locked you in a cupboard and starved you and hurt you? Didn't they know they were supposed to love you?"

Harry found himself speechless with surprise. He had been certain Al had been referring to the part about him dying. He had not expected him to dwell on this: James hadn't even asked him about it.

"I'm sorry you had to hear all of that, Al," he said finally. "But you know, I wasn't with them for very long, and I've now found more people who love me than I ever could have hoped for."

"But Mum said you didn't even know how to be loved. Does that mean that you don't know that I love you?"

"Of course I do," Harry answered. He really hadn't been prepared for this. He didn't know what to say. Telling the story of Voldemort had been easy in comparison.

"The Dursleys were, well, they were awful. They did all the things your mother said they did. They didn't like me because I could do magic, and they were scared of magic because it was something they couldn't understand. When I was eleven, Hagrid came to take me away and from that moment on, I had a new life. I had friends and family who loved me, and I knew they loved me. It was a little hard to accept at first, but it didn't take long. You can't spend too much time with the Weasleys without feeling absolutely certain that you're loved, especially with your Grandmother around.

"You can't change the past, Al. But you know, while I wish my parents hadn't died, and had been able to raise me themselves, without the Weasleys I wouldn't be who I am. I had to know what it was to be unloved to truly appreciate what is was to be loved in the end. If I hadn't grown up with the Dursleys, I might not know how truly blessed I am to have such a wonderful family."

"Don't you hate them, though?" Al asked quietly.

Harry considered the question and answered honestly. "You know, Al, I don't. I've…well I've known people who were intentionally evil; evil in the truest form. Vernon and Petunia are not evil people. They are pathetically enraged toward people who are different than them, and it's actually kind of sad. You know, I actually pity them, you see, because of who they are: they'll never know love like I do. Their lives will never be as complete as mine. And besides, do you know one of the reasons my aunt treated me so badly?"

Al shook his head and Harry paused for effect.

Finally he leaned toward Al conspiratorially and mock whispered: "She was jealous that she couldn't be a witch."

Al offered a small laugh and looked at least partially comforted. Harry hugged him before standing up to leave.

"I'm surprised, Al," he said against his better judgment, but curiosity go the better of him. "I expected you to ask about the war."

"Oh, no," he said, his eyes wide. "I don't want to know about that until I'm older."

Harry laughed and left the room. Really, how had he gotten so lucky?

Lily, thankfully, had fallen asleep and Harry stood looking at her for a long while before Ginny quietly entered the room and stood beside him.

"I wondered where you'd got to," she whispered. "I was worried Al had asked you about the war too."

"Oh no," Harry said grinning. "He doesn't want to know until he's older."

Ginny buried her face in Harry's shoulder to suppress her giggles.

"She's so beautiful," he said after a while, looking back at his daughter.

As he stood there, with an arm around his incredible wife, looking down at the sleeping form of his perfect daughter, Harry never felt so thankful that he knew what it was to love, and to be loved in return.

* * *

**A/N: **Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed!

This story pretty much takes a few well worn story ideas and combines them into one story. I realize there is no shortage of stories with these sort of themes, but hopefully my take on them is original enough to be interesting.

Next up: Harry's not quite through with the Dursleys yet (the next chapter's called Reckoning if that gives you any hint), and Petunia still has a few secrets.


	3. Reckoning

Ginny left her purse at Dudley and Laura's. Of all the stupid things—but no: He couldn't blame her. They had left in such a hurry. Still, he did not want to go back there so soon.

Ginny offered to go, but she would have to drive the hour with the kids, or else drop them off somewhere before Apparating, and it was just easier for him to stop by on his way to work. He owled Dudley and Apparated under his invisibility cloak onto his cousin's front porch.

The door swung open immediately as he knocked.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Dudley said with panic on his face. "They knew you were coming and they wanted to talk to you. I can't make them leave!"

"You've got to be kidding," he said.

Dudley shook his head. "I think they just want to give you something."

Harry shrugged resignedly and followed Dudley into the kitchen.

Harry was ready to be perfectly civil, but Vernon destroyed that particular instinct pretty quickly.

"No wife to fight for you today, I see," he mumbled, looking down at his feet.

Harry looked at the man, flabbergasted, and felt disgust. All thoughts of civility were gone, but still he spoke calmly.

"Do you know why I let Ginny attack you yesterday rather than doing it myself? Do you know why I didn't fight my own battle? Because I didn't care. I honestly didn't care enough to fight. I've fought battles that have been worth it, and I know enough to know that this wouldn't have been.

"My children heard what Ginny said. You know I fought in the war: I'm regarded as a hero among my people, a celebrity, and my children know very little about it. They heard what Ginny said about me dying, but do you know what my youngest son, the one who looks like me asked? He didn't ask about the war and how I survived. He didn't ask how I lived through such trying times and bloody battles. He didn't ask for all the scary, exciting details. That didn't have much of an effect on him. Instead, he asked me how you could have not known how to love me. He asked how I could be sure that he loved me if I grew up not knowing what love is. And it made me realize, finally, finally, what truly pathetic people you are. I didn't confront you yesterday because I didn't care, but I'm confronting you today because I do.

"You have another chance with Hermione. You have a chance to be decent people. You have a chance to accept her for who she is rather than who you think she should have been. You have a chance, in my book at least, to atone for your mistakes. If I hear that you haven't, if I hear you've done anything to make that little girl think she's anything less than the amazing person that she is, my wife will be the least of your problems."

Without another word he spun on his heel to leave the house, but Vernon stopped him.

"Boy," he said. "I mean…er…Harry."

Harry whipped out his wand and spun around.

"What," he spat.

"You're aunt wanted to give you something."

Petunia pushed a very old shoebox across the table. Harry hesitated before asking what it was.

"It's just," Petunia sniffed, "It's just some old pictures and things I thought you should have."

Harry picked up the box, not quite daring to believe that Petunia had kept pictures of him with his parents all these years.

Vernon seemed to be struggling with himself. Finally, with an elbow jab from Petunia, he spoke.

"I love my granddaughter. I'll accept her for who she is without question. I'd rather have her in my life as a…er…special person than not at all. She's like a daughter to Petunia and me and we wouldn't know what to do without her in our lives.

"I…er…I didn't want you in my house. If I had to do it over again, I still wouldn't want you in my house. You were a poky little child and I didn't ask to have to raise my…er…abnormal sister-in-law's even more abnormal boy.

"But you organized our safe keeping during your war. You kept my family safe. It was your fault that we were in danger—"

Here Petunia elbowed him again.

"But we heard things about you while we were hiding. We heard what you did. You're…a…er…you're a decent man." He said this last part very rushed and Harry was almost certain he misheard him.

Laura suddenly squeaked from where she was standing and Dudley followed her gaze and immediately turned pale. Harry looked and was surprised to see Hermione poking her head around the doorway. She slowly stepped into the room.

Whatever Harry wanted, he hadn't wanted Hermione to hear his tirade, especially after what she had heard yesterday. He had been so concerned about his own children, he hadn't even though about Hermione would react to the accusations against her beloved grandparents.

"Grandpa," she said quietly, and then more loudly, "Grandpa did you really do those things that woman said you did? Did you really hate Harry because he was magic?"

Vernon looked as though he was unable to speak.

The young Hermione's eyes narrowed. "You're a bad man," she said. "You shouldn't have done those things."

"No honey," Dudley said desperately. "He shouldn't have. He just didn't know any better."

"So he's just stupid then?" the girl retorted scathingly.

Harry suppressed both a grin and a grimace. Retribution was a fickle thing. Hermione would likely never look at Vernon the same again, and Harry didn't know whether to rejoice or feel sympathy.

"I should go," Harry said. He ruffled Hermione's hair quickly, half waved an apology to Dudley and Laura and Disapparated on the spot, leaving Vernon to deal with his own mess.

Back in his office at the Ministry, Harry curiously pulled the shoebox Petunia had given him toward himself. He paused before opening it, without knowing why.

He drew in his breath sharply when he did. He had not been expecting this.

The box was full of photos of him, as he had expected, but they were not of his first year of life with his parents. They were not of his parents at all.

He pulled out one that particularly caught his eye: It was him, about two years old, running happily on the beach with Dudley while they both chased an impossibly large beach ball. Petunia was happily trailing after them, which mean that Vernon had probably taken the picture.

The next was of one year olds Dudley and Harry both sitting on…no it couldn't be. They were _both _sitting on Vernon's lap, laughing along with him.

There was one of Harry blowing out the candles on a cake that had a large "2" candle on it; one of the entire Dursley family, with Harry, apparently at a picnic of some sort, posing for a _family_ photo. The box was full of them.

Toward the bottom, Harry found pictures of himself as he aged. They were taken through windows and across gardens, without his knowledge, and he was no longer accompanied by the Dursleys in these pictures, but they were of him. Even when Petunia began to hate him, apparently, she had felt the need to document his life. Why?

On the very bottom of the box he found an envelope with his name written on it. He opened it, not quite sure if he wanted to read it.

_Harry,_

_As you can see, you were not always an unwelcome stigma in our home. I have no excuse for what was done to you more than I told you yesterday, but I felt I should explain more fully. I am unforgivable, I know, but please just try to understand why I did the things I did. _

_I loved your mother very much and that world took her away from me. It made her special. It made her better than me. I wanted so badly to go away to that magical school and be a witch with my sister. I wanted so badly to be a part of her world; of your world, but I couldn't._

_I never told Vernon what my sister was. I was afraid that he wouldn't believe me and, if he did, that he would hate me for it. I knew how he felt about anything that he thought was strange. _

_When you arrived on our doorstep all those years ago, I learned that my sister had been killed. My little sister whom I had abandoned and labeled a freak had been killed in a war I didn't even know she was fighting, and I found out about it in a letter, left on my doorstep with the baby I was now expected to raise. I'll never understand why Professor Dumbledore didn't explain things himself; why he left a helpless little baby who was supposedly in so much danger alone on a doorstep through the night._

_When I saw you out there, cold and alone, suddenly thrust into a world of danger I couldn't comprehend, without even your parents to protect you, I took you. To me, you were the death of my sister, the embodiment of my grief and guilt, and the reminder of the sister I had scorned and lost, but you were so alone, so I took you. You were the reason my little sister died, but I took you._

_That should have made me want to protect you, to protect you because it was for you that my sister died, and it did at first. _

_I told Vernon everything that morning and he didn't believe me. Finally, I managed to convince him and he begged me not to take you. I had been so afraid of how he would react, and so confused by my grief, that I explained your world to him as though it was something dirty, something freakish. I knew what he was like, and I didn't want him to push me away too. He and Dudley were all I had…_

_He begged me not to take you, but I insisted. I explained to him that we were all you had. Finally, after days of fighting, he consented, on the condition that we would never send you away to be a wizard. He said we'd be able to make you not magic anymore. I didn't know what he meant at the time, but I agreed just to make him let me keep you._

_Even then we didn't quite raise you like Dudley, but you were one of us. Maybe not one of _ours_ but you were a part of our family. _

_But you never cried. Night after night I waited, but you never cried. In the mornings I waited, but you never cried. Sometimes I wouldn't feed you on purpose just to see, but you still just laughed. Sometimes I would go into your room at night after I finally got Dudley back to sleep—back then you had a real room, you see. I would go into your room wondering why you never cried, and I would find you awake, just looking out your window from your crib, up into the sky. And I could feel…It was like I could feel my sister in there with you. I could feel her presence, and sometimes I thought I could even smell her, or hear her humming softly in the wind. It's true you didn't need me—you already had a mother, but that's not why I…why I did what I did. _

_After a while, of course, it just sort of grew from what Vernon told me about forcing the magic from you, but that wasn't it in the beginning. I could feel my sister whenever you were in the room, and…at the time I didn't understand why it upset me so much, but I was vile to her. I really was, and I felt like you were there, and she was there, both of you judging me and hating me for who I was, and who I wasn't, and what I had done to her._

_And then, when you were about two and a half, it happened. I had been trying to make you cry for days. For the very first time, I put you in the cupboard under the stairs and locked the door. I left you in there all day, just waiting for you to cry, but you didn't. Finally, I went to let you out, but as I was approaching the door, the chain lock slid over on its own and the door opened. You were just sitting there calmly. Vernon saw it too and we knew. We knew you were a wizard._

_From that moment on, we cannot be forgiven, I know. When it started, we really were just trying to force the magic from you, but as you grew, we resented you more and more as those things kept happening. For Vernon, I know it turned to hate. For me, it was jealousy, it was anger, it was bitterness, resentment, and it was fear, but it was never hate. You were still Lily's son, after all. You had her eyes. Your mother's eyes…_

_Vernon thought the magic could be forced from you, and I went along with it, but I never really believed. When the Hogwarts letters started arriving, I was actually relieved. I was relieved because I wouldn't have to deal with you anymore, I'll admit. I was also relieved because _you_ wouldn't have to deal with _us _anymore. A part of me knew, I never would have admitted to myself then, but a part of me knew how awful we were to you.. I didn't feel your mother as often any more. Sometimes though, when you looked at me, I saw Lily in you and I knew in those moments that you were a child, and that we were treating you worse than a dog. I knew in those rare moments that we were vile people. But your letter came and I was relieved, above all, because you, Lily's son, would finally be going to the place you belonged._

_I know this explanation must paint Vernon and I in an even worse light than you already saw us, but I felt you deserved to know the truth. Rest assured, Hermione will not be treated as you were. She is our granddaughter, and she will not be unloved. _

_Your mother would be proud, you know, to see who you've become despite our influence. But then again, I have the feeling she already knows. She never left you Harry. Not really._

_Petunia_

Harry set the letter down on his desk and let out a slow, deep breath. Petunia was right, her excuses weren't enough. Nothing would ever be enough to make up for all the years of suffering and abuse, of neglect and abandonment, of being taught to believe that he wasn't worth more than the lowest life form. But he was glad he knew. He was glad Petunia had finally acknowledged that Harry didn't deserve the life she had forced on him. He had known that himself, of course, but until today there was still a part of him that was six years old and didn't understand why he was being locked in the cupboard while Dudley was fawned over. There was a part of him that thought he deserved it.

On impulse, he threw the letter into the fire. It wasn't something he'd want to read again, he knew.

He had a sudden desire to see Ginny, and to see his children. He had a sudden desire to be with his family.

"Bingley," he said to his secretary outside his office, "I'm going home for the day."

"But Mr. Potter," the man said, "it's not even noon. You never leave early."

"Well, maybe it's time I started."

Without another word he threw a pinch of powder into the fire and went home.

* * *

**A/N: **Thank you, everyone, so much for your kind reviews! I'm a bit overwhelmed by the amount of hits and favorites this "little story to take a break from my longer story" is getting. I hope this chapter didn't let you all down.

This was originally planned as a three part story, but I think there's one more event in Harry's life relating to this story that needs to be told. I should have the fourth and final chapter up in a few days.

Oh, and to clear up the confusion with the time: Harry says it has been _nearly_ twenty years, not twenty. He is rounding up. And the DH epilogue takes place nineteen years after the final battle, not nineteen years after the last time he sees the Dursleys, so I'm pretty sure my timeline is correct.


	4. Seven Years Later

The early summer morning dawned bright and cheerful. Harry took advantage of the beautiful weather to take a short walk with his eighteen year old son, James, before they left for his Hogwarts graduation.

"How did this happen?" Harry asked after a long period of walking in silence. "It must have something to do with all that playing around with Time Turners I did, but I swear you were just getting on the Hogwarts Express for the first time yesterday."

James laughed at how much like an old man his father sounded.

"Let me guess," he said. "In your day, they didn't even have wands. People had to do wandless magic all the time, while they were walking to school both ways uphill."

"Exactly," Harry said grinning. Harry wasn't exactly old, he thought rather resentfully, he was only just in his forties, but that didn't stop James from taunting him regularly about his age.

"I'm proud of you, James," Harry said.

"Come on, Dad. Everyone graduates from Hogwarts. It's not that big of a deal."

"I didn't," he answered.

"Well yeah, but you were too busy saving the world."

"Well anyway," Harry said, "Now you'll be leaving your mother and me and going off on your own…"

"Dad, I'm going to be training as an Auror _under you_. I'm still going to see you every day."

"…and you'll forget all about your poor old Dad," Harry continued as though James hadn't spoken. "That's all right. Never mind that we raised you all your life. Soon you're going to get married and have a family of our own…"

"And then I'll finally be rid of you and Mum forever, just like I've always wanted," James finished, rolling his eyes.

As they walked back toward the small stone cottage, three figures emerged from the doorway.

Ginny was flattening Al's robes while he squirmed and Lily was spinning around gleefully, pretending to try to Apparate, just to annoy her mother.

"Harry, James, we're going to be late," Ginny said as they approached, without looking up while she rubbed a smudge from Al's face that only she could see.

"Mum, _I'm_ not the one who's graduating. Stop trying to groom me."

"Oh, so I'm a villain just because I want my family to look presentable? James?" She beckoned James to her so she could look him over.

James stepped forward rather reluctantly, but Ginny couldn't see much to fix. Both Harry and Ginny knew how much time James put into looking carelessly handsome, just as his grandfather had, but at least Ginny didn't constantly bemoan that his hair just wouldn't lay flat. She rather liked that particular feature that had been the bane of Potter women for so long.

Instead, Ginny pulled Harry toward her and began grooming her just as she had Al. "Honestly, the two of you…" she mumbled. Harry didn't think she knew that she said it out loud.

The family prepared to Apparate, Lily on Harry's arm, and Al looked a little queasy. He was still new to Apparition, and Harry knew he preferred other methods of travel.

They arrived on the sunny Hogwarts grounds and the three teenagers immediately rushed off in separate directions to join their friends. Harry spotted a huddled group of red heads and he and Ginny, hand in hand, headed over to them.

After being assaulted by hugs from at least twenty people, including a teary eyed Mrs. Weasley who just couldn't believe that little James was graduating, Harry found himself standing with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, a little off to the side.

"I don't know what I'm going to do when Rose graduates next year," Hermione confessed, wringing her hands. "It's hard enough with James, but…"

"At least we'll still have the next generation when this one's done," Harry said, thinking about Teddy and Victoire Lupin's new little one. "I still can't believe Bill's a grandpa."

"And pretty soon you'll all be in your graves because you're just _so old_," Hermione Dursley cut in dramatically, breaking off from the group of red heads. She had grown up beside James at Hogwarts, and had become very close with the Potter and Weasley families. Sometimes she and her parents even joined them for the holidays. Dudley and Laura couldn't be happier that Hermione had such a large support group of witches and wizards to welcome their daughter into the world of which she had become a part, but Harry sometimes couldn't help but wonder how Vernon and Petunia handled the turn Hermione and Dudley's lives had taken. Beyond making sure that they treated Hermione okay, Harry never really questioned their involvement in her life. He knew that they didn't like to talk about magic, and that the relationship between them became strained more by Hermione's doing than by Vernon's (she never did forget the conversation she overheard all those years ago), but that was all he knew. He hadn't seen or spoken to the elder Dursleys since he'd Apparated from Dudley's kitchen seven years ago.

His musings were interrupted by the sight of two very familiar looking people, awkwardly looking back at him, obviously wondering whether they should approach.

Little Hermione, as they had taken to calling her, had become enfolded again in the crowd of Weasleys, and he knew Petunia and Vernon hadn't yet seen her. It was him they were debating approaching. Finally, they began to slowly walk toward him.

Harry stepped forward through Ron and Hermione, and felt them turn to face the same direction. He heard Old Hermione (who wasn't nearly as pleased with her new name as the younger) gasp when she saw the Dursleys. She, like him, had apparently never entertained the idea that the Dursleys would ever be willing to set foot on the Hogwarts grounds, even if it was for their only granddaughter's graduation.

Ron, Hermione and Ginny stepped up on either side of him protectively, and the Weasleys, being quickly joined by more of their number as more and more people began to sense that they were needed, gathered behind him. It must have been terrifying for Vernon to approach when Harry was surrounded by a virtual army, all obviously ready to protect him, though only the oldest generations of the group really knew why.

He had to hand it to them though, they still kept walking.

"Hello Harry, Ginny," Petunia said in a shaky voice as they approached. He couldn't believe that she had actually remembered Ginny's name. "Your oldest is graduating today as well, isn't he?"

Harry nodded. Vernon's face was purple, but Harry couldn't tell if it was from anger. It seemed different somehow, almost frightened, and embarrassed. Why had they come here? He was sure they would have been forgiven if they hadn't. What were they trying to prove?

"Dudley isn't here yet," Vernon grunted, apparently trying to justify the fact that they were talking to him. "And we can't find Hermione."

Harry was surprised that Little Hermione didn't step forward at this.

Though Ron was standing completely still; though he wasn't walking, and his feet were planted firmly on the ground, he suddenly tripped, spilling his drink all over the front of Vernon's pristine Muggle suit, to gasps and snickers from the crowd behind them.

"Oh, sorry," Ron said in a flat and expressionless voice. "That was a total accident."

Holding back a laugh, Old Hermione stepped forward to siphon of the stain, but Harry saw Vernon twitch and take a step back, though he was obviously trying to hold himself firmly in front of them.

"I can fix that, Grandpa," Little Hermione said, cheerfully bouncing forward. Before Vernon could react, she raised her wand and silently cleaned his suit. It was immaculate again. Harry grimaced, ready for the explosion, but was surprised at Vernon's reaction.

"That's amazing, Hermione," he said after a moment, looking down at his chest. "I wish your grandmother could do that—then she wouldn't have to spend so much time cleaning the kitchen."

Everyone's faces relaxed at once. Despite the years that had passed, Harry couldn't believe what he had just heard. Before he could react, Dudley and Laura walked over to them, casting Harry an apologetic look and leading Petunia, Vernon and Hermione away.

The students walked across the stage by house, and Gryffindor house was first. There was applause for each student, but nothing compared to the tumult that ensued as James Potter's name was called. Over fifty Weasleys, who made up over a quarter of the crowd though none of their own children were graduating, jumped to their feet along with another quarter of the crowd who were close with the Potters. They all cheered, deafening Harry with their screams. He joined in with the screaming happily, but couldn't help giving a sidelong glance at the Dursleys who were seated, clapping politely, looking shocked at the reaction their grandnephew had elicited.

James winked, grinning, and gave an elaborate bow to the crowd, flourishing his hands as he did, and eliciting even more screams. Finally, the near riot died down enough for the next student to be called. Harry felt a little bad for Alicia Thomas, but she garnered at least as much applause as the rest of the students who had walked across the stage so far. She didn't seem to mind. Harry supposed people had gotten used to the Weasleys accounting for so much of the wizarding world but still being as close with one another as though it were a small, tight knit family.

Hufflepuff was the next group to be called. Harry had a feeling of what was to come, and he was fidgeting a bit in his seat. He saw Hermione looming closer to the stage and looked at the Dursleys.

"Hermione Dursley," Professor Vector called.

At once, the crowd erupted just as it had for James. They were on their feet, cheering and screaming Hermione's name while Hermione grinned and walked across the stage.

Vernon and Petunia looked to be in complete and total shock, barely able to applaud themselves. Were those tears in Petunia's eyes?

And then, as Hermione took her diploma, she did something entirely unexpected. She pointed her wand at her head and added to her blonde hair a streak of red, and a streak of black. It was a gesture that didn't go unnoticed by the Weasleys or the Potters, and the cheers grew to an unbearable pitch. Even James was on his feet, cheering his second cousin on with enthusiasm from his seat with the rest of the Gryffindor graduates. From the looks on Harry's aunt and uncle's faces, they had had no idea of the surrogate family their granddaughter had acquired in the last seven years.

After the ceremony, Harry stood milling around with the adults of his family while the younger generation went off on their own. Hermione, still with her multicolored hair, had gone off with another seventh year Hufflepuff boy and Harry felt what he recognized as a fatherly urge to string him up by his ankle.

Dudley and Laura stood talking with Arthur who, despite the fact that two of his sons had married Muggleborns, and one had even married a Muggle, couldn't help himself from questioning them about the amazing devices they used to get along in life. (So you really have a machine that's only purpose is to make toast? It really doesn't do _anything_ else?)

Harry heard a cough behind him and turned to see Petunia and Vernon standing there. He waited without speaking.

They stood awkwardly for a minute and then, to the infinite surprise of Harry, Petunia hugged him quickly with stiff arms. He had to resist the urge to pull away, but luckily the hug was short.

"Thank you," she whispered fiercely, "for letting her be one of you, even though she's one of us."

Vernon grumbled awkwardly, but in agreement rather than scorn.

Harry smiled a genuine smile and raised a hand to ruffle his slightly graying black hair.

"It would have been hard not to," he answered honestly. "She's a pretty cool kid."

Petunia smiled and turned away, leading Vernon over to Dudley.

"Hey, what was that about?" Hermione asked protectively, coming over with Ron.

"They've lost their touch," he said grinning. "They've almost become human."

He looked over at Al, who was standing with his mother, James and Lily, but was eyeing the Dursleys suspiciously, thinking very hard about something. Harry realized that this was the first time his son had seen the elder Dursleys since that fateful day seven years ago. Al seemed to sense Harry's gaze and turned to face him. A large grin spread across his face.

"Hey, Dad," he said loudly. Harry waited expectantly. Al looked around as though to be sure as many people were paying attention to him as possibly could.

And then, though he was seventeen and much beyond the age where he could do so without mortifying himself, he yelled very loudly, "I love you!"


End file.
